


Don't Say Goodnight

by wilyprimadonna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, M/M, fairy godmother kuroo, vague mentions of other couples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilyprimadonna/pseuds/wilyprimadonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s so easy to take care of Yamaguchi, so easy to want him and love him.  Sometimes, Tsukishima feels like he's dying."</p><p>Yamaguchi is perfect and Tsukishima has issues coping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say Goodnight

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, “I think we fell asleep.”

Tsukishima opens his eyes, slowly, and blinks.  It takes him a bit to get his bearings and realize that he’s on his living room couch, and that the heaviness on his legs is actually Yamaguchi, not an iron blanket. He eventually focuses in on Yamaguchi’s worried profile, eyes bleary from sleep and sporting faint creases on his cheek.   _From my shirt,_ Tsukishima thinks, still disoriented, and feels warmth collect behind his sternum at the thought. 

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says again, “It’s twelve.  I’m might miss the train, damn.”  He starts untangling their limbs, sitting up to straighten his t-shirt, and Tsukishima mourns the loss of a lovely sight when the freckled skin of Yamaguchi’s lower back is covered once again by blue cotton.  He eyes the fabric with disdain while Yamaguchi frets with his socks, one of which had fallen off.  _Stay,_ Tsukishima wants to say, _get back here._ He wants to tell Yamaguchi to forget the socks, to pull their bodies together, to push Yamaguchi’s shirt up again to trace the familiar freckles. 

 _Fucking hell,_ Tsukishima thinks, _get a hold of yourself,_ and resolutely tries to shove these images that have been hounding him since high school back into the furthest corners of his mind, always subtly present but sometimes triggered into hyperactivity.  Like now.  But it’s hard to stop the images once they start, and Tsukishima’s made Yamaguchi come twice by the time Yamaguchi speaks again. 

“Maybe we should have just stopped at one movie, huh?” Yamaguchi, rubbing his eyes, finally looks at Tsukishima.  He’s the picture of innocence, smiling softly, and Tsukishima’s thoughts of shaking thighs and arching backs fade out to the present; he sits up slowly.  “They always make me so sleepy.” 

Tsukishima, of course, knows this; they’ve been friends for so long that it’s nearly impossible to miss that Yamaguchi can’t stay awake any time they watch more than one movie.  Everything about this situation is familiar – the quiet hum of his refrigerator, dishes left in front of the TV, his right arm numb from supporting an extra sixty-five kilos.  His half-hard dick in his jeans. Yamaguchi getting ready to leave in the middle of the night. 

His insatiable crush that he’s tried to brush off so many times, but unknowingly planted its way into his heart and wells up at inappropriate moments, like when Yamaguchi falls asleep on his couch in the middle of _Pacific Rim_ , and he looks so comfortable and perfect that Tsukishima can’t help but follow suit, and they end up tangled up in each other by the time the last trains are leaving.  It’s so easy to take care of Yamaguchi, so easy to want him and love him.

* * *

 

Sometimes, Tsukishima feels like he’s dying. 

* * *

 

“So why don’t you just fucking tell him?  Stop whining about your dumb romantic ass when you can just fucking tell him and spare yourself the grief.  For fuck’s sake, Tsukishima,” Kuroo had said, a few weeks ago, when Tsukishima gritted his teeth and asked for advice.  Even though the phone, Kuroo’s smugness was irritating as hell.  The bastard had the nerve to laugh, then, and in the background, Tsukishima could hear the soundtrack from a video game, faint but chipper.  He could feel his patience dwindling.

“Thanks for the words of wisdom,” he’d replied, deadpan, and hung up.  He was too prideful to call again, and now all he has is that one bit of advice: _just fucking tell him._

 _Just fucking tell him,_ Tsukishima thinks again, as he has maybe a million times before, and he wonders when it became a mantra.  _Just fucking tell him, just fucking tell him, just fucking tell him._

Yamaguchi’s talking still, rambling about his 9 A.M. biochem class and how his roommate’s going to kill him for getting home in the middle of the night, _again_ , and he was planning on stopping at the store to grab some food because his fridge is pretty much empty, but now it’s too late and he hopes he has enough money for lunch tomorrow without having to go the ATM, and even though Tsukishima likes Yamaguchi’s voice when it’s like this, a little rough from sleep, he says, out of pure reflex, “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”  

Yamaguchi startles, because it’s the first thing Tsukishima’s said since he woke up, but he grins and replies, just the same as ever, “Sorry, Tsukki!” and Tsukishima can’t remember a time when he wasn’t so fucking in love with Yamaguchi.  He’s harbored fantasies of stopping this routine, this charade, and kissing Yamaguchi to shut him up instead of biting out the words he doesn’t mean anymore.  He thinks about the time he caught Bokuto and Akaashi making out in the locker room during training camp his first year, about Hinata and Kageyama shamelessly holding hands on the bus rides to meets, about Kuroo and Kenma’s quiet, domestic intimacy.  He wonders if any of them ever woke up on their ugly brown couch with a perfect boy in their arms, who always untangled themselves quickly and smiled like an angel and left to catch the last train back to their dorm room on campus. 

 _Probably fucking not_ , he thinks bitterly, _seeing as they all got together during high school._

 _Just fucking tell him,_ says the voice in his head again, and this time, it sounds suspiciously like Kuroo instead of his own dry voice.  He wishes he were stupid, like Hinata or Kageyama, so that laying his heart on the floor would be easy.  The logical part of him knows that Yamaguchi would never laugh at his feelings, but would probably comfort him; Tsukishima almost thinks that would be worse.  _Pathetic,_ he thinks, not for the first time.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” says Yamaguchi, standing up and brushing imaginary crumbs from his jeans.  He still looks a little sleepy, loose-limbed, looks like a dream to Tsukishima’s tired eyes.  “Goodnight!” Yamaguchi says, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. He touches his fingers to Tsukishima’s hair, smoothing it, and Tsukishima freezes.  Yamaguchi himself seems surprised at his action, his cheeks tinting red before he even tries to pull away, and before Tsukishima can think anything further than _just fucking tell him,_ he grabs Yamaguchi’s hand.  They stare at each other, quiet, and the hum of the refrigerator has never seemed so loud.  Yamaguchi’s blush has reached his neck, and he looks like he’s about to pinch-serve against Seijou, nervous and concentrated.  Tsukishima can feel his own heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, and he can’t decide if he wants to say something or stay still like this, the closest they’ve ever come to holding hands.  He doesn't trust his voice not to say something biting and witty and mean out of habit, so he bites his tongue.

Then Yamaguchi licks his lips, the first movement either of them have made, and in a completely stupid, irrational, unthinking move, Tsukishima lets go of Yamaguchi’s wrist, grabs the front of his shirt, and pulls him down into a kiss.  Yamaguchi makes a tiny, surprised noise as their lips touch.

 It’s a little awkward, with Yamaguchi bent down halfway and the angle less than ideal, but Tsukishima feels almost embarrassingly relieved when Yamaguchi begins to press back, shy and gentle.  The kiss only lasts for a few seconds, but when Tsukishima pulls back and looks at Yamaguchi’s face, which is turning from a slight pink to vibrant fuchsia before his eyes, all he wants to do is kiss him again. 

“Yamaguchi,” he starts, and he winces as his voice cracks.  He wants to say something devastatingly clever that will make Yamaguchi laugh and fall into his arms, but he doesn't have any words left other than _I love you_ and _oh my god._   He stares at the freckles on Yamaguchi’s cheeks. 

Thankfully, Yamaguchi seems to recover at least part of his brain function, and he hauls Tsukishima in by the collar for another kiss, licking at his mouth and groaning low in his throat and climbing into his lap before Tsukishima can even realize what’s happening, and it’s all he can do to kiss back.  He feels hot all over, wants to put his hands all over Yamaguchi, but settles for pushing up the back of Yamaguchi’s t-shirt, imagining the freckles there, and traces the soft skin.  Yamaguchi sighs softly against his mouth and slides his hands into Tsukishima’s hair, tugging softly until Tsukishima moans inadvertently.  When Tsukishima pulls away for the second time, both of them are breathing hard and Yamaguchi looks absolutely gorgeous, heavy-lidded eyes and wet lips and red cheeks on such an innocent face, and Tsukishima can’t help himself when he buries his face in Yamaguchi’s neck and sucks at the skin there.  Yamaguchi starts to whimper, but tries push him away, mumbling, “Tsukki, don’t do that, I have class tomorrow –” but he cuts himself off and bites his lip when Tsukishima starts mouthing downward, biting at his collarbone. 

Eventually, Tsukishima raises his head from Yamaguchi’s collarbone, but when he goes in for another kiss, he’s stopped by Yamaguchi’s firm hands on his shoulders. 

“Tsukki,” he says, “What are we doing? I mean, Tsukki, we’re kissing, and I’m not saying it’s bad, it’s not bad, Tsukki, but, I mean, Tsukki...” he trails off, frustrated, and years of experience tells Tsukishima to wait it out until Yamaguchi gets his thoughts out.  “Tsukki, what does this mean?” he finally says, and his voice is shaky but hopeful, and Tsukishima kind of feels like crying. 

 _Just fucking tell him,_ the Kuroo in his mind helpfully supplies, and Tsukishima takes a deep breath and looks Yamaguchi straight in the eye. 

“It means…it means that I want you to stay,” he finally says.  His face feels vaguely like the time he got a horrendous sunburn his second year of middle school, and he’s sure it looks just as red.  He tries to sound clipped and uncaring, but his voice comes out fond and sincere.  “Stay the night.”  _Stay forever._

* * *

Later, when Tsukishima lies in bed next to a sleeping Yamaguchi, he unwinds one arm from around Yamaguchi’s chest and taps out a message to Kuroo: _You’re a goddamn saint._

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on AO3! Comments always appreciated :) 
> 
> (I am that person who can never stay awake for more than one movie. Sometimes I even fall asleep in the middle of the first one. Never invite me to a movie marathon unless you're prepared to get your couch hijacked by my perpetually sleepy ass.)
> 
> Largely inspired by the song "Stay Alive" by Jose Gonzalez, which is a song I like to listen to when I want to feel overwhelmingly sentimental about things I've never experienced. 
> 
> Title taken from the Hot Chelle Rae song, smh.
> 
> Come talk to me on twitter :) @w_primadonna   
> or tumblr ! wilykazuya.tumblr.com


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